


glass city

by algebraicmutiny



Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-12-27 01:01:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/algebraicmutiny/pseuds/algebraicmutiny
Summary: "You lot? Superheroes? No offence, but in what fucked up kind of world would that be allowed to happen?"





	1. i. introduction

**Author's Note:**

> i have a plot now lol. also theyre gonna spend more time in north london becos do i look like the kind of person 2 go googling locations in the south for a fanfiction. didnt think so bye

"Aaaaand stop right there, sir!"  
  
The man, as expected, does not stop. The White Phoenix is unperturbed. "Excuse me! Did you leave your hearing aid at home?" He drops down from his perch in the carpark's ceiling, landing neatly on the roof of a black toyota. Not quite as classy as he was hoping for, but a dramatic entrance nonetheless.  
  
He steps off the roof of the car onto the hood and then onto the ground, wrinkling his nose delicately as a layer of dirt rises slightly in his wake, just brushing the cuff of his tailored white trousers. "Jesus god, who takes care of this place?"  
  
The man he had been addressing skids to a stop in front of him, eyes wide and panicked like a trapped deer, chest heaving as he pants harshly. "Who the hell are you?"  
  
The White Phoenix cocks his head to one side, white mask tilting with it, as if he is an owl watching a field mouse. "If you're deaf, do I get in extra trouble for beating the shit out of a disabled person?" He pauses, then shrugs. "Suppose it doesn't matter. No one's going to catch me."  
  
The man barely registers movement before he's clocked in the jaw, pain flaring just below his ear. He yells out, more from shock than anything, and flails wildly in his attacker's direction, which would be fine if his attacker were even there anymore.  
  
"Rookie mistake," he hears in a breathy sort of sing-song, right by his ear. He's suddenly aware of the arm snaking around his neck, and he struggles against the restraint. "Rule number one, keep your eye on the prize, baby!"  
  
"Fuck you," the man manages, twisting in the other's grip. "You'll never get away with this, I have men everywhere!"  
  
The Phoenix coos. "That is so sweet of you! I am so happy that you're planning on looking out for me even after you're gone." His arms tighten. "Tell me what i need to know and I'll let you live."  
  
The man struggles harder. "I don't have anything to say to you, you fucking psycho!"  
  
His attacker laughs breezily. "Oh yeah?" He feels something cold and heavy press against his temple, and he freezes. "Say that a little louder."  
  
"Fuck, fine," the man yelps. "What do you want to know?" He feels the other man shifting behind him, the gun lifting from his head as the arm slides further forward so that his adam's apple is pressed to the inside of an elbow, and he risks a glance backwards. "What are you-- are you taking your fucking jacket off?"  
  
He stops, pristine white blazer half off one shoulder as he stares at the man he has trapped. "What?" he quips back. "In the event that I do have to shoot you, I don't want to get my suit jacket dirty. Laundry is expensive, and blood is so difficult to get out of white clothing. A man of your profession would surely know this." He manages to wriggle his way out of the blazer, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor before pressing his lips to the man's head with a quick smack. "Lovely bald patch you've got going there, really brings out the liver spots!"  
  
The man just growls in response. The White Phoenix grins. He's already won. "Tell me what you know about the Orchid's crime sindicate." He presses the pistol harder into the man's head. "Everything."


	2. ii. the witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's been a murder.

Kelly slumps down into the sofa, switching the television on as she shoves another handful of crisps into her mouth, but she freezes as the news channel comes on. "Shit," she hisses.  
  
_Crime boss found dead in Tottenham_ , flashes across the bottom of the screen.  
  
"What seems to be the body of Charles Johnson, also known as the head of London's second largest crime syndicate, the Tigers, has been found in a carpark in South Tottenham," the newsanchor says brightly, as if she isn't reporting a murder. "Any CCTV footage of the past week appears to have been wiped, so there are no leads or suspects as of yet. The only clue left at the scene was a single white feather."  
  
"Fucking Phoenix," she whispers, clutching at the armrest of the couch, leaning in. "What are you doing?"  
  
She grabs her phone and fumbles as she hastily types out a message. _ASBO 4 MEETUP BEHIND THE BAR. 15 MINS. URGENT. BE READY._  
  
She doesn't know what the White Phoenix is up to, but they have to find out. For the safety of everyone.  
  
Alisha is the first to respond. _locked and loaded, baby. see u there. xoxo amoré_. Kelly could always count on her to have her shit together, which couldn't really be said for the other two. Her phone pings again, Curtis this time, and she groans.  
  
_make it 20 aight_ , it reads. She feels like smacking him. How ironic that the man who can control time can never be punctual to anything.  
  
She's fully dressed before she gets an answer from simon. _Omw_ , it says. Short, succinct, but too vague for her liking. She wants to hit him too. _MAKE IT QUICK_ , she shoots back, grabbing her gun and tucking it into the holster at her waist. She's hoping that their congregation will draw the Phoenix to them-- after all, wherever they go, he seems to follow. It's eerie, how he seems to always know where they are, but she chalks it up to the trail of bad guys they leave behind. It feels like they've shut down every mafia at least twice, but they've never managed to get ahold of Phoenix. They don't even know what his power is; for all they know, he could just be a regular psych-ward escapee. She doubts it though-- he has a certain air around him that suggests an unnatural strength, and no one can ever seem to track him down. No one knows who he is.  
  
It makes her nervous. He could be anyone.  
  
As she readies herself to leave, her thoughts turn to Nathan. Despite how much of a twat he is, she always worries about him. He's the only one of them without a power to protect him, and it was a deciding factor in their choice not to tell him about their special abilities, not to mention their vigilante night lives. She hesitates before sending him a message.  
  
_get to sleep early, dickhead._  
  
Something fond lights up in her chest as she receives a response nearly instantaneously. _ok grandma LOL, do u want me to grab a box of chamomile tea 4 u aswell or wot_ , she can practically hear him say, and she snorts. What an ass. She doesn't grace him with a response before she quietly slips out of the door into the dark. Right now, she isn't Kelly Bailey. The Witch sighs, blending into the shadows lining the wall.  
  
It's going to be a long night.

* * *

"I'm assuming you've all heard the news," she starts, eyed flicking across the three individuals in front of her. "And I think it's safe to say we know who's behind this one."  
  
Simon nods shakily. "The White Phoenix. He left his signature."  
  
"That's right," Kelly confirms, putting her hands on her hips. "He's obviously up to something and it's down to us to figure out what. He's a dangerous guy, and I need you all to be careful."  
  
Curtis pulls a face. "Alright, then, what exactly do you need us to do? No offence, but the crime's already been committed. Exactly what are we gaining from this field trip?"  
  
Kelly scowls. "The more commotion we cause, the more likely we are to draw the Phoenix out. It feels like he follows our every move very closely, so we might be able to get ahold of him. He's a sneaky bastard, though, so we need to make sure we aren't making our intentions obvious. Alisha, stats for this evening?"  
  
Alisha flicks her phone open, eyes scanning the screen behind her night vision glasses. "Looks like our lucky night; there's a robbery going on down at a jewellery store near Tottenham, so one of us could probably scout out the crimescene quickly while the others focus on the burglars."  
  
"I'll do it," Simon interjects quietly. "I'm the least likely to get caught, and if I find anything I'll be able to get back to you without too much issue."  
  
"Thanks, Simon," Kelly says gratefully. "We really need to get a closer look and see if he left anything behind."  
  
"Besides the feather," Curtis clarifies, and Kelly rolls her eyes.  
  
"Besides the feather," she confirms. "And Simon, do you think you could do a quick sweep of the bar for me? I just need to make sure Nathan's not there."  
  
"He isn't," Simon states, but disappears anyway. Kelly wonders how he knows.  
  
"Alright, everyone else!" She's feeling antsy, eager to get on the move. "Let's head out. Simon'll meet us there after he's done at the carpark. Alisha, send everyone the address, yeah?"  
  
Alisha nods, fingers flying across the keys of her phone. "All done," she announces, and Kelly hears her and Curtis' phones ping. She smiles.  
  
"Let's get going then."

* * *

  
A few blocks down, a cellphone buzzes, and someone stops whistling. There's shuffling and a quiet huff of annoyance as they fish the device out of their pocket, before the figure stops completely. A grin creeps across their face, the malice at odds with their delicate features.  
  
"Oh," they whisper to themselves. "How interesting."  
  
Pulling up their hoodie, they slink into a corner, sliding their backpack off their shoulder and retrieving two items: some kind of handheld device, and a white mask. The figure fiddles with the device for a moment, lighting up the darkness under their hoodie as it beeps softly at them, soft green light illuminating their features.  
  
"There you are," they breathe, ducking down to slide the mask onto their face. "You want to play?" He straightens, eyes glinting in the weak wash of a streetlamp. "Then let's play."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. tell me if u like where this is going and maybe i'll try to make the next chapter longer.


	3. iii. from ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> simon has time to contemplate and investigate before he receives a message.

Simon thinks about Nathan a lot.

He muses on this as he creeps into the bar, unseen and unheard by its patrons, and surveys the dimly lit area, not needing to squint to see all the faces in the gloom. He picks up the tail ends of conversations-- someone's just gotten fired, another has been promoted to assistant manager, Becky is pregnant again,  _goddamnit--_ but he doesn't focus on them, instead keeping an ear out for that telltale, loud Irish voice yelling obscenities at people.

He doesn't hear it. He doesn't see him either.

The coast is clear.

Simon lets out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding, feeling some kind of comfort in knowing that their secret was still a secret, and that Nathan was safe in his ignorance.

_Nathan._

Simon lets himself think about Nathan. About his curly hair and green eyes and cheshire grin, about his lanky frame and long fingers that were so perfect when they ran through Simon's hair. He thinks about his laugh and his crude jokes, about the way he curled into Simon and sobbed like a child when he said that Nathan could stay with him at his apartment, the one he'd started renting right after their community service ended. About his lips and his tongue, the way he kisses like he has something to lose. The way he breathes when he sleeps. If he sleeps.

Simon thinks about Nathan a lot. Worries a lot.

He always feels bad that they keep something so important from someone so important, but when the others had pointed out that his knowledge may put him in further danger than they had already been in, he had agreed in a heartbeat. He would do anything to protect Nathan. His Nathan.

Now he isn't so sure. Because Nathan has been growing distant, staying out late, drinking more and sleeping less. He feels like Nathan knows something, knows that they're hiding something big from him, and it makes him both paranoid and guilty.

He's hiding a huge part of himself from his best friend (not boyfriend-- they'd been over this, Nathan just can't handle a serious relationship right now, and Simon has expectations that Nathan says he can't live up to; he tries not to be disappointed). He feels like it's tearing them apart. And he can't lose Nathan. Not again.

( _He remembers the days following Nathan's disappearance, the frantic search of London's darkest streets to find someone who desperately doesn't want to be found. They call and call, but it always leads to voicemail and when they find his phone at the community centre, cracked and damaged like it had been thrown, they dissolve into panic. When they do find him, he's bruised and bloody in the alley behind a seedy club, eyes dark and muttering to himself, hands shaking like a junkie on a bad comedown. Simon supposes he was. When he takes Nathan home with him, he wakes up to the other screaming and crying, clawing at his eyes and yelling, 'Stop, stop, don't come closer, don't come closer!' Simon assumes that they're nightmares, but the haunted look Nathan gives him makes his skin crawl with its reality. 'I'm dying, Barry,' he mutters hoarsely. He smells like death. 'I swear I'm dying.'_

_He asks Nathan to move in with him the next morning.)_

It doesn't take long for Simon to make it to the carpark after that. It's not that he knows the area very well (in fact, quite the opposite; North London is not his 'ends' so to speak), but rather that being invisible has its perks when he's trying to get around the city. Who knew that bus-hopping would be so quick?

He reaches South Tottenham without much issue, eyes catching the fluorescent sign of the carpark as the bus' headlight bounce off it, and he somersaults off the roof, feeling smug in his perfect landing, even though no one else could see it. It's one of his most treasured abilities, aside from his invisibility and heightened senses, and he relishes in the feeling of being airborne, even if just for a few moments. There's something in the weightlessness of it all that makes him feel free.

He treads carefully as he enters the carpark, the bright white of the lights illuminating the lots, bouncing off car windshields. It's almost blinding, to Simon's sensitive eyes. Sometimes he wishes he wore sunglasses like Alisha does.

Something about this space was making him uneasy.

He sees the police tape before he sees the body. There are a couple of police cars parked around, with dozing officers at the wheels, and it makes Simon want to laugh. This is why they needed vigilantes; people paid to fight crime are always sleeping on the job. 

He ducks underneath the makeshift barrier, careful so as not to cause any disturbances to the scene. He doesn't want to alert the police of his presence, even if he is invisible.

Standing over the body, he immediately notices the feather. It's bright white, standing out against the black of the guy's jacket. Crouching to take a closer look, he sniffs with distaste. He hates the smell of blood. There's a gunshot wound in the back of the man's head, seeping red onto the floor. He must have been shot from behind, and his positioning makes it seem as if he had been running away as he was shot. Whoever did this was cruel enough to let their victim think they had a chance of escape before snuffing them out.

He supposes he does know who did this. The White Phoenix.

Something of an up and coming legend in the underground hero community, the White Phoenix is a recent addition to London's network of vigilantes, but his motives have never been clear and have always seemed sinister. He's become infamous; heroes and criminals alike have been found dead, shot with a single bullet to the head, with nothing but a white feather left as a clue. No fingerprints. Nothing. No one Simon has met except Kelly has ever seen him in person, but he'd heard stories. Some said that he had large, feathery wings, explaining both the name and the feathers, but Simon isn't so sure. Names are not always as straightforward as one might think; his own, 'Ghost Hunter', was a lot more ambiguous to what his power was than Curtis', who was simply 'Rewind'. As his own is more figurative, he thinks that the Phoenix may have a thing going.

"Like a phoenix," he whispers to himself. "From ashes." 

He isn't sure what he's meant to think, but it's the first thing that pops into his head. It's somewhat poetic.

Giving the body another once over, he's surprised to find what look like bruises on the man's neck, as if someone had been holding him there. Interesting. He pulls out his phone to take a few quick photos, but falters when he sees a text from Nathan.

_where do u even go_ , it reads, and just those few words send a pang through his chest.

As much as he loves saving people, he hates leaving people behind. The important people.

He doesn't answer the message, instead snapping a few pictures of the man's head, neck and chest area, where the feather is. As soon as the photos are taken, he grabs the feather and pockets it, feeling the air around his hand tingle as it, too, becomes invisible.

He roots through the man's pockets, because it always pays to check. There could be money, or something nice he could pawn off and get a few quid to help pay rent. He doesn't expect to find a single folded piece of paper.

_Hello, Simon,_ the paper reads in neat, typed font.

Simon feels like he's going to faint.

_Wonderful of you to come-- truly honoured that you would pay my crime scene a visit! So sorry I couldn't stop by for a quick chat, but I'm a very busy man with things to do and I supposed that you could take care of yourself. I guess I was right, because here you are, reading this! I'm so proud of you._

The tone of the note makes him feel uneasy. It's like he's being watched. He looks over his shoulder quickly before going back to the message.

_Honestly, I'm a big fan! The big, bad ghost hunter. Your death count is unmatched! I'm very jealous._

This just makes Simon feel nauseous. He doesn't like killing people, but the person who wrote this note has no such inhibitions on his conscience.

_I would just love to meet you; you're something of a personal hero. If you could meet me at the abandoned warehouse down in Brixton tomorrow night that would be fantastic. I can't provide details but you're a smart one, I'm sure you'll figure it out. We have many things to discuss, Simon Bellamy._

_From ashes,  
The White Phoenix_

"From ashes," Simon murmurs. He folds up the piece of paper and tucks it into his front pocket with the feather.

It looks like he's taking a trip back down South, tomorrow night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg the plot is WORKING i fucking love it when that happens. pls point out any mistakes its nearly half past 12 in the morning and im EXHAUSTED. goodnite.


	4. iv. get too close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jewellery store robbery bust, and an unsettling discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i physically fought this chapter thats how tired i am now. god. sorry this took so long. enjoy

  
There are two men standing outside the jewellery store. Curtis sucks in a breath, glancing at Alisha, who gives him a look before turning her attention back to the situation at hand. The men seem to be guarding the entrance to the store; pretty standard, nothing they haven't dealt with before, but it still makes Curtis nervous, sending Alisha out among dangerous men who could slit her throat at any moment. Realistically, he knows that won't happen; her power will protect her, like it always does, her specific brand of emotional manipulation allowing for a certain leeway when it came to dealing with people, but he cares about her. He wants her to be safe, even if they aren't dating anymore.  
  
"Here we go," Kelly breathes, turning to face Alisha, and raises her hand to signal the start of the plan being set in motion.  
  
With a sharp nod, Alisha heads out, one thumb up in a signal as she struts towards the store.  
  
"Hello, boys," her voice rings out, and Kelly grins. She could always trust Alisha to do her job on the scene. "Having a good night, are we?"  
  
"Look here, missy," one of the men sneers, face twisting in an ugly sort of scowl. "We're busy, so if you could get your cute little arse out of here that would be a big help."  
  
"Oh," Alisha gasps, feigning surprise. "Are you doing something illegal?"  
  
"What are you, a cop?" the other goon retorts, and the girl laughs.  
  
"Me, a cop?" she replies, almost shrilly. "Oh, I could never. I was actually here to ask for a little advice." She twirls her hair with a finger and pouts, staring up at the men with big eyes.  
  
The first guy seems to be losing his patience, but he smiles tightly to humour her. "And what might that be?"  
  
"What would you do," she purrs, walking up close to him and tracing a finger along his bicep. "If you were just walking down the street one evening, and you bumped into the most gorgeous strangers?"  
  
Stranger. That's their cue. Kelly motions for Curtis to follow her, and they sneak across the street to slip through the door. Alisha has successfully lured the men away from the entrance without them even noticing, giving her two teammates the opportunity to get past without being caught. It was their usual strategy; send Alisha out to be the decoy, keeping guards and lookouts occupied by charming them with her looks and her power, allowing the rest of the team time to find a way in, and then providing a distraction from any sounds of fighting that may come from inside the store. It is both standard and necessary. Curtis still doesn't like it.  
  
"I'll go round the back," he whispers as they make their way in, carefully checking for any more burglars. He can see two more guys, picking the locks on cases, and he wants to laugh at their amateur behaviour. Everyone knows to just smash the glass and take whats inside-- it's faster, and leaves less time for the authorities to catch you. "Check for anyone that might have tried the safe. You good to take care of the front room?"  
  
Kelly nods in affirmation. "Just peachy. There aren't many of them, this is basically a rookie mission. Go ahead and check the back, I'll deal with this."  
  
Curtis jerks his head at her before creeping towards the back room. Kelly clears her throat.  
  
"Hey, dickheads," she shouts, and their heads whirl around to face her. "You gonna pay by cash, or card?"  
  
She doesn't even wait for them to register her words before she whips her gun out. She could apprehend them with her powers on their own, but there was never much fun in that. She prefers the struggle. The two men fall away from the cabinets with a twitch of her head and she sighs, walking up to them, footfalls silent. "Not paying at all then?" she quips. "Now that's not nice, is it?"  
  
It doesn't take long to apprehend them, leaving them dazed and tied up in front of the till. One of them thinks something unsavoury about her breasts, and she sneers. "Go fuck yourselves," she spits at them, before leaving the store to join Alisha.  
  
She's still talking to the men out front; they seem entranced by her, leaning in with a dazed look in their eyes, and Kelly knows that she won't be able to keep it up much longer before one of them tries to touch her and it all goes downhill.  
  
"Evening, lads," she calls, and they swivel to face her. Alisha seems relieved. "Ready to go, Amoré?"  
  
"As always," Alisha replies coyly, and Kelly grins. "Do you want to do the honours?"  
  
Kelly nods in mock solemnity. "Of course, love."  
  
She wastes not time, shooting them in the feet, like she always does with the guys that Alisha has to deal with. It makes Kelly sick to think about how it must make her feel, being nothing but a distraction while the rest of them do the real fighting, but when she had brought it up, Alisha had just laughed.  
  
"Oh, sweetheart," she had giggled. "You know I don't like getting my hands dirty like that, yeah?"  
  
They don't speak of it again.  
  
Now, Alisha helps Kelly tie the men up outside the store, hands gloved but still careful around exposed skin. Kelly feels a pang of guilt that she can't place.  
  
"That'll do it," Alisha announces as she stands back and admires their handiwork, dragging Kelly out of her thoughts. "We good to go, Witch?"  
  
"Yeah," Kelly says, snapping back to reality. "Any news from mister Hunter?"  
  
Alisha checks her phone quickly before shaking her head. "Nah. The cops are probably gonna show up before he does, so we should get out of here."  
  
"Okay," Kelly says, thinking it over. "Okay. Let's go get Curtis."

* * *

Curtis has a different problem on his hands.  
  
When he had slipped away from Kelly to check the back room for any more burglars, he hadn't found any. This was strange in and of itself, but he decides not to pay too much attention to it. They had caught the criminals relatively early on in the break in, he supposes, so maybe they just hadn't had time to get back here before the ASBO Four arrived.  
  
His attention is drawn by something else entirely.  
  
Sprawled across the desk in the middle of the room are a bunch of photographs. Photographs of them, of Curtis and his friends, some from back when they had been doing community service, but most from after. He approaches the table cautiously, hand hovering above the pictures, not wanting to touch in case he disturbs something, some kind of trap.  
  
They've all been scribbled on in black marker, he notices. Alisha, standing outside her door, frowning down at her phone, with two horns poking out from her hair and a squiggly devil's tail from behind her. Kelly, leaving the office building where she'd managed to score a job as a receptionist, a ridiculously large witches' hat drawn onto her head. Simon, coffee and bagel in hand as he runs across the park, pacman-esque ghosts floating around him. Curtis, buying a bouquet of flowers for Nikki before a date, a clock obscuring his face. Nathan, smoking on a pontoon by the Thames, white cherub wings at his shoulders, seemingly drawn in chalk pen. Photos upon candid photos of him and his small group of friends, all crudely vandalised with childish drawings.  
  
Curtis can understand the symbolism, he isn't stupid. Devil horns for Alisha, to signify the nature of her power; as if she's a succubus, not a human being. A witches' hat for Kelly, derived from her alias, same with the ghosts for Simon. The clocks on his face aren't a puzzle-- whoever this is knows them and their abilities.  
  
Why Nathan has wings, he isn't sure. Because Nathan had never developed a power.  
  
Sure, Curtis had thought about it. About how weird it was that Nathan, of all people, had been the one not to get one. Nathan, charismatic, impulsive, and reckless. He would easily have made the best hero out of all of them.  
  
But he's powerless, so he isn't.  
  
The wings make Curtis uneasy. He feels like whoever had these photos before he stumbled upon them knows more than him, or Kelly, or the others. Something is going on, and he doesn't know what.  
  
Unbidden, the White Phoenix is drawn to his mind. The anti-hero-slash-villain known for white feathers and extreme violence, who no one sees but everyone knows.  
  
_Could Nathan be...?_  
  
He dismisses the thought before it's even fully formed. The cocky bastard wouldn't be able to hide a power from them; he'd be too eager to show off how cool he was for having one. Then they'd be the ASBO 5, not 4, because as annoying as he was, they would let Nathan in. They always would.  
  
Curtis scratches his head. This could be a warning; that the White Phoenix was targeting them, specifically Nathan, if the white wings were anything to go by.  
  
He wants to let the others know. He really does. But something is holding him back.  
  
The way the photos were presented, all laid out on the table for him to find. It was intentional. Someone knew they were coming here. He picks one of the pictures up, and startles at the sudden movement of something fluttering to the ground.  
  
A white feather.  
  
Phoenix.  
  
"Curtis!" Kelly yells, jerking him out of his thoughts. "We've got to go, the cops are coming. You all good back there?"  
  
"Yeah," Curtis calls back. "I'll be out in a sec!"  
  
He pockets the photos and the feather, and then jogs out of the backroom after giving it another quick onceover.  
  
He'll think more about it all later.  
  
Alisha is furiously tapping at her phone when he gets out of the building. "Stupid motherfucker," she hisses. "Simon's not gonna be back for a while. Let's go back to the bar, we can wait for him and debrief there."  
  
Curtis glances at Kelly and then nods. There are a couple of things he needs to discuss.  
  
When they finally make it back to the bar, dressed in their regular clothes, Simon is already there. He looks nervous and shaken, like he'd ready to get up and run at any moment, and Curtis frowns. He's even more nervous than he was when they had just met, odd considering that they were now years away from the people they used to be.  
  
"I visited the crime scene," Simon starts, and Curtis sighs. Straight to business, then.  
  
He gets up and orders a round of beers from his coworker who was taking that night's shift, and she smiles at him. He flashes a quick grin back.  
  
"You up to anything tonight, then?" she asks coyly, and he feels his stomach flip.  
  
"Yeah, actually," he says awkwardly. "Having a night in with my girlfriend."  
  
"Oh, alright," the girl says, sheepish. She pushes a tray towards him, four beers sloshing in their pint glasses. "Have a nice evening."  
  
"You too," he says. He smiles again, taking the tray from her and bringing it back to the group.  
  
"Fill me in?" he says, sitting down heavily and passing the drinks around.  
  
"Basically, this mob boss guy's gotten himself shot by the White Phoenix," Alisha supplies, looking bored. "Nothing out of the ordinary, just a regular shot to the back of the head."  
  
"But it is out of the ordinary," Simon argues, brows furrowed. "The Phoenix doesn't just kill for no reason. He has a motive, and we don't know what it is. That's the problem."  
  
Curtis looks at Simon strangely. This couldn't be the reason the man seemed so riled up. "Is there something you aren't telling us, Simon?" he asks carefully. "'Cos you seem awful shaken up for something we see nearly every day."  
  
"I got--" he starts to say, before hesitating, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Curtis raises an eyebrow, and Simon exhales shakily. "I-It's nothing," he says. "Did anyone get a text from Nathan?"  
  
Alisha shakes her head as Curtis and Kelly quickly check their phones. "Nope," she says cheerfully. "The bastard's been blessedly quiet."  
  
Simon looks like he's about to say something at that, but Curtis decides to interject.  
  
"That reminds me," he says, pulling the photos and feather out of his pocket. "I found these, in the back room of the store. Figured you lot should know, so we can figure out what it means together."  
  
He lets the others pore over the photos, snorting at Alisha's disgruntled, "Just because I make people want to have sex with me doesn't make me a fucking demon, Christ!" Simon looks the most troubled, turning a photo of Nathan over and over in his hands. Kelly is inspecting the feather.  
  
"Bastard knew we were coming," she mutters. Curtis' heart drops. Kelly knows the White Phoenix better than any of them, so if she says it's his, then she's probably right.  
  
"So, what, he leaves a feather and a few photos he took to freak us out?" Curtis asks disbelievingly. "Seems a bit tame for him."  
  
"I don't think he took these photos," Simon says, quietly. "I think someone else did. He's just using them."  
  
"What makes you so sure?" Alisha quips. "For all we know he's some creepy stalker photographer, like you."  
  
Simon doesn't say anything else and just glares at her. Curtis sighs and rests his forehead in his hands, massaging at his temples. He wants to go home already.  
  
"I guess that's it then?" Kelly asks, shooting him a quick glance and looking around the small huddle they had formed around the table. Sometimes Curtis was grateful for her power to read people's minds. "Simon can take the photos and have a closer look at them. Let's go home."  
  
So they go home.

* * *

Simon finds Nathan on the doorstep of their shared apartment. He's wasted, that much Simon can see. It makes him sad. He's slurring something incomprehensible, big green eyes staring up at Simon balefully, and it makes Simon want to cry.  
  
"Let's get you inside," he coaxes, getting both hands under Nathan's armpits and dragging him up. He goes willingly enough, slumping into Simon's arms, which makes opening the door a struggle, but he doesn't want to let go of his (not boyfriend) best friend, so he manages, even with Nathan pressing sloppy kisses up and down his neck, cooing gently as Simon shifts him to one side so they can get through the door.  
  
Simon manages to drag Nathan to his room, hoisting him onto the bed and tugging his shoes off, and pulling the duvet over Nathan's limp form. He quickly fetches a glass of water and some ibuprofen from the kitchen, setting them down on Nathan's bedside table, for when he wakes up in the morning. He takes a moment to gaze at his lover's (not his lover, not his boyfriend not anything) curled form, looking so small, almost swamped by the blankets.  
  
Sometimes, Simon is afraid that the love of his life just might drink himself to death.  
  
"Love you, Barry," Nathan mutters. Simon feels his heart shatter.

"Goodnight, Nathan," he whispers, before shutting the door behind him, pressing his back to it and sliding to the ground. He drops his head into his hands, tears prickling behind his eyes as he lets out a choked sob. "Fuck," he says emphatically. " _Fuck_."

  
He goes to sleep that night with a heavy heart and a heavy conscience. It doesn't matter how many people he saves if he can't save the one person that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and its not even that LONG jesus god u guys i am so sorry LMAO


End file.
